


Tongue Tied

by vondrostes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Comeplay, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Song: Carolina (Harry Styles), Sub Harry, harry is a brat, mitch is a shy sweetheart in the streets and a rough top in the sheets, tongue play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:09:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: “What did I say?”“Not to be such a goddamn tease,” Harry slurred out, like Mitch’s grip on his tongue had permanently debilitated his ability to speak.“And what are you right now?”“A tease,” Harry answered miserably.“No,” Mitch bit out in an icy tone. “You’re a fucking brat.”





	Tongue Tied

**Author's Note:**

> Half of my one shots are just discussions in the group chat that got entirely out of hand. You don't see much of Mitch's soft side in this one as this is pretty much all atrociously filthy smut involving Harry's tongue.
> 
> I'm on Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s

Sometimes Harry _wants_ to be punished.

It’s something Mitch realized not long after their ‘thing’ started, but it didn’t fully rear its head until well into the arena tour.

They were pressed for time was the thing. Mitch liked a bit of teasing just as much as the next guy, but they were supposed to meet the others outside in less than ten minutes and Harry still had yet to even put Mitch’s cock in his mouth.

“Stop fucking around,” Mitch told him, staring down with one hand braced against the bathroom wall as Harry tongued around the base of his dick, refusing to stray anywhere near the head. As if Mitch was liable to come that easily.

Thirty seconds of aimless torture later, Mitch was convinced that Harry was drawing this out on purpose solely so that Mitch would be forced to go out to dinner with his boner tucked into the waistband of his trousers, because Harry enjoyed handjobs under the table in front of all their friends—and Mitch’s girlfriend—too.

Normally that was the sort of thing that was just on this side of acceptable, the type of encounter they played by ear. Tonight wasn’t a good night for it. Clare and Harry had been butting heads earlier, though Mitch didn’t exactly know why. Maybe that explained why Harry was being such a little shit.

Mitch wasn’t keen on being used as a pawn in Harry’s passive-aggressive conflict resolution strategies. He grabbed for the longest part of Harry’s hair without thinking about it, without warning him, and pulled hard. At the same time, he reached down and pinched the meat of Harry’s outstretched tongue between two fingers, yanking Harry in opposite directions until his eyes watered and he started gagging.

“I told you to stop fucking around,” Mitch said, not bothering to soften his tone even while Harry writhed and choked on his own spit, though he made no real efforts to actually get away. Mitch held him there, just like that, for a few more seconds, and sure enough, Harry started to go all glassy-eyed and hazy, which only made Mitch want to tug even harder.

He stopped just shy of actually hurting Harry, letting go of his tongue when the gargled noises emanating from his throat started to take on a more shrill pitch. Mitch kept a hand twisted in his hair, giving his head a vicious jerk just to remind Harry who was still in control.

“What did I say when you asked to suck me off?” Mitch demanded, making sure to keep Harry’s face angled upward so he could maintain eye contact.

“I don’t—”

“What did I say?”

“Not to be such a goddamn tease,” Harry slurred out, like Mitch’s grip on his tongue had permanently debilitated his ability to speak. Not exactly the best idea the night before a show, but they’d dealt with worse before.

“And what are you right now?”

“A tease,” Harry answered miserably.

If Mitch hadn’t known how much Harry liked this sort of thing, he might have been worried. There were tears streaming down Harry’s face now, and he looked high as hell—the kind of high you got after trying mushrooms for the first time, not the mellow highs of really good weed that the two of them were more accustomed to.

“No,” Mitch bit out in an icy tone. “You’re a fucking brat.”

Harry flinched bodily, as if the words had injured him more than Mitch’s grip on his tongue.

“Sucking cock is a reward,” Mitch continued, ignoring the way Harry shook under his hand with gentle sobs. God, they were going to be even later to dinner now, but this was a necessity. Harry had earned his punishment. “And brats don’t get rewarded.”

“Please,” Harry begged softly. He looked like he might die if he didn’t get Mitch’s dick in his mouth in the next five seconds.

Mitch knew better than to fall for it. “Shut up,” he said coldly, feeling a surge of pleasure when Harry’s mouth snapped shut obediently. But that wasn’t what Mitch really wanted. “Open your mouth,” he ordered. “Tongue out.”

Harry looked confused by the instructions but obeyed wordlessly. Mitch finally let go of Harry’s hair once he’d complied, grabbing hold of his tongue again with his thumb and index finger while shoving the rest of his fingers back behind Harry’s molars to keep his jaw stretched wide.

There was nothing comfortable about it, but Mitch wasn’t concerned with Harry’s comfort, or even his own. He hefted his cock with his right hand, still hard despite the lack of direct stimulation in the last minute or so, and carefully slotted just the tip into Harry’s open mouth, careful not to let any inch of Harry’s tongue come into contact with his dick.

The mangled whimpers emerging from Harry’s throat made it clear he’d clued in on the lesson Mitch intended to teach him immediately. Good. Mitch enjoyed Harry’s anticipation more than his surprise.

Mitch jerked himself leisurely as he stared down into Harry’s watering eyes. He was helpless to do anything but stare back.

There was a sick sense of satisfaction in knowing that even though Mitch’s cock was in his mouth, Harry couldn’t suck it, couldn’t even feel it. The tears sprouting in Harry’s eyes were a sure sign he’d realized the nature of his punishment, and Mitch could feel him struggling, weakly, to get his tongue on Mitch’s cock.

“No,” Mitch told him, putting an end to that immediately. He needed to focus on coming as fast as possible, and he couldn’t do that while simultaneously fighting to keep Harry’s mouth open.

When he finally came, it went everywhere. Harry couldn’t swallow with his tongue extended, so it pooled instead in the hollow of his outstretched tongue, the crevices between his teeth and cheeks, some of it dripping down his chin with a mixture of his own drool before slicking up his neck and collarbones.

Harry’s dinner shirt was a lost cause; he’d have to change before they left. Mitch didn’t care about that anymore though, intent only on jerking himself through his own orgasm as he stared down at Harry’s wrecked expression.

He didn’t let go of Harry’s tongue until he started to gag. “You okay?” Mitch asked, hauling Harry up and ignoring the fact that his own dick was still hanging out of his pants in favor of making sure Harry wasn’t about to choke to death on his come.

Harry nodded, the spasms subsiding now that he could swallow again. He was still covered in come and hadn’t even gotten to orgasm himself, but they only had time to fix one of those problems.

Mitch took his time cleaning Harry up and carefully putting his face back into some semblance of normality using Sarah’s makeup. They were already late, so Mitch didn’t mind wasting another ten minutes if it meant Adam wouldn’t ask invasive questions over dinner that Mitch knew would only piss Clare off.

She wasn’t exactly a fan of what was going on between Mitch and Harry—and that was only the parts she knew about. Mitch didn’t want to risk sowing any more discord within the band by revealing the true nature of their bedroom activities.

“Ready to go?” Mitch asked once Harry looked human again.

“Mhmm.”

Mitch kissed him gently on their way out the door and gave the incident no more thought for the rest of the evening.

*

Harry kissed his boots for the first time on stage the following night, in front of thousands of people, angling his face just right so that only Mitch could see the hint of tongue poking out between Harry’s lips as he knelt down right there in front of him.

It was a clear ‘fuck you’, a way to challenge Mitch’s authority in the bedroom by asserting Harry’s own authority on stage, where Mitch held no power over him except what Harry decided to give in little bits and pieces. Sure, it was Mitch’s boots that were being kissed, but Harry was still the one in charge.

Mitch went to Harry’s hotel room after Sarah got in the shower, intending to have a fairly serious talk with him about what was and wasn’t appropriate on-stage behavior. Those intentions dissolved as soon as Harry opened the door to reveal himself, shower-damp and dressed in nothing but a terrycloth robe tied loosely at the waist.

“Wasn’t expecting you to drop by tonight,” Harry said, feigning surprise. It was Sarah’s night, not his. Harry knew that. He’d known that during the show when he’d dropped to the floor and kissed Mitch’s fucking boots out of nowhere.

Mitch didn’t reply, instead grabbing Harry by the hair and shoving him further into the hotel room. Mitch only waited until the door swung closed behind him before yanking Harry down.

“Since you like being on your knees so much,” Mitch said, already fumbling with his belt even as Harry hit the floor.

They didn’t have time to play. Mitch pushed into Harry’s mouth as if he were fucking a stranger and thrust carelessly, knowing from experience that unless he was really rough, Harry’s voice would recover within a day and there would be nothing to worry about aside from a few suspicious glances from Clare and various members of the crew.

Mitch pressed Harry’s face into his crotch when he came, not letting Harry come up for air until he’d gotten his fill. He didn’t bother to check to see if Harry had come too before tucking himself back into his pants and walking straight out of Harry’s hotel room.

*

After that it sort of became a game.

Harry would tease Mitch during Carolina in front of the whole goddamn world three times a week, and after the show, even if it was one of Sarah’s nights, Mitch would shove his cock down Harry’s throat.

The only problem is that Harry was being rewarded for his bad behavior, not punished, something Sarah pointed out to him over a late dinner a few hours after the show had ended, a show during which Harry had licked Mitch’s fucking face right there on stage for everyone to see.

The only saving grace of the situation is that hardly anyone had actually seen it. Harry was a master of using the lighting and angles to his advantage and had managed to sneak it in just as the lights went down. The reason Mitch was freaking out at all was because a few people on Twitter had guessed correctly, even though most were treating it like a joke.

Sarah didn’t seem all that worried. She was amused, if the expression on her face as Mitch explained Harry’s behavior was anything to go by. “Just stop giving him what he wants,” she suggested, as if it were the simplest solution in the world. It was, really, but Mitch didn’t want to admit that to himself. “He’s doing it to get a rise out of you, so just don’t give in the next time.”

Mitch tried her suggestion after the next show with mixed results. Harry seemed disappointed the next day, when the band met up for breakfast at the hotel, but he didn’t say anything about Mitch not visiting his room for the first time since this whole thing had started.

But unfortunately, it only made Harry more determined at the next show, his antics bordering on obscene when he stuck out his tongue directly in Mitch’s face during the solo, mocking him.

Mitch decided he’d had enough. If ignoring the problem hadn’t worked, then he had no other choice but to confront it directly. Sarah had advised him to stop giving Harry what he wanted, and Mitch didn’t plan to.

The grin on Harry’s face when he let Mitch into his hotel room after the show that night could only be described as ‘shit-eating’. Mitch kept his expression perfectly neutral, not wanting to clue Harry in to the surprise he had in store.

“On your knees,” Mitch said without prelude.

Harry, to his credit, obeyed instantly, opening his mouth wide and sticking out his tongue in expectation. Mitch couldn’t have asked for better.

He reached toward Harry’s mouth slowly, caressing his jaw with a careful hand before getting a firm grip on the back of his neck. With his other hand, he quickly pushed Harry’s tongue back into his mouth and then covered it, his palm big enough that he could keep his thumb pushed under Harry’s chin to hold his jaw closed.

“You can fight it if you want but it won’t help,” Mitch told him.

He could feel Harry doing just that, but Mitch had been playing guitar since he was a kid. If there was anything he was confident about, it was the strength of his fingers. If Harry wanted to be let go, he would have to use his own hands, and right at that moment he had them clasped tightly behind his back—the perfect picture of submission despite his struggles to open his mouth.

“If you don’t want to play,” Mitch said, “then I’m going to leave, and you won’t get anything. Got it?”

Mitch waited for Harry to give a little nod before finally letting go of Harry’s neck, reassured now that Harry wouldn’t cheat at their little game. He yanked down his pants, too worked up already to fuck around with the belt and fly. He hissed a little at the scrape of it over his dick, already hard by the time he got a hand around it.

Harry was already crying before Mitch even got a good rhythm going, big fat crocodile tears that did nothing to pull at Mitch’s heartstrings. Harry had earned this punishment, and Mitch was going to give it to him.

There was no need to drag things out—the denial was the whole point. And Mitch knew he couldn’t hold out against Harry’s squirming forever. He jerked himself hard and fast, racing himself to come before his fingers couldn’t fight back any longer. With Harry staring up at him angry and teary-eyed, it wasn’t all that difficult, really.

“This is what you get when you’re greedy,” Mitch grunted. “Nothing.”

He slid his hand away right as he started coming, keeping a hand on Harry’s jaw to keep his mouth closed even as he shot off all over Harry’s lips and chin. He could feel Harry still fighting to get a taste; to make sure he couldn’t, Mitch yanked him to his feet and swiped his own tongue across the mess he’d made on Harry’s face.

“You don’t even like swallowing,” Harry said in a wounded tone once Mitch finally pulled his hand away.

“Well if you didn’t act like such a bitch then I wouldn’t have to,” Mitch retorted.

He spun Harry around and pushed him down onto the bed, unsurprised to find him already hard and dripping when he shoved Harry’s pants down around his thighs. The way Harry jack-knifed against him as soon as Mitch got a hand on his cock, spurting up against his own chest after just one rough pull—well, that was a surprise.

Mitch let go and flopped down beside him on top of the sheets, not bothering to fix his clothes. He’d have to leave Harry soon, but he wanted to make sure Harry had gotten the point of this little exercise first.

“You gonna stop fucking around during Carolina, now?” Mitch demanded.

“After this?” Harry’s face widened into the same shit-eating grin he’d worn when Mitch had first walked in the room. “Absolutely fucking not.”


End file.
